A Fickle Heart And A Bitterness
by warriorhope
Summary: AU. Sam is a popular escort, while Kurt is a high end call boy. One rainy night they meet and Kurt gives Sam his jacket beginning a friendship between the two. Hevans, with eventual background Brittana, Finchel and Quick.


Occasionally he heard laughter coming from the bar, as people walked in and out of it. Particularly, her laughter. Harsh if pretty. Usually it was just a snort of disgust.

Sam sighed and held the cigarette back up to his mouth, pretending to smoke for anyone from their party came through, or if Santana came searching for him. He hugged his other arm to his body in effort to keep warm. It wasn't as if he hated Santana. No. She was fun on occasion, if her venomous words weren't aimed at you and she had gentler moments, but there were only so many mouth insults, he could take before he was in danger of breaking the lovestruck boyfriend facade.

He exhaled. Perhaps he could have simply told Santana to hire another escort, let Jacob or someone else deal with her. But she paid extremely well for the services he did provide and never asked or demanded additional services (he had been in situations where that wasn't the case before), so there was no real problem.

"Are you going in?"

Sam eyes shot up, taken aback by the sudden question. He looked at the passersby in front of him, and was taken even more aback.

A young man, not much older or younger then him stood there looking at him with his head cocked in amused puzzlement. He pale, clear skin that set off his pale blue eyes beautifully. His hair was styled into a pamador, and he wore a tan trench jacket with hand painted blue designs. He held a black umbrella to keep out the light drizzle off.

"In a minute," Sam answered. "I have to finish this."

He waved the cigarette.

"That you're clearly not smoking."

It was that obvious, wasn't it?

"Yeah. I just needed some air."

"Oh I see," The stranger smiled, then frowned quickly. "Aren't you cold? Do you have a jacket?"

"No," he admitted. The agency hadn't provided one.

"That won't do. It's only light now, but it's going to come down really hard later." The man undid the belt of his trench coat, taking it off and holding it out to Sam. "Take it."

"I can't. How would I give it back to you?"

"I'll give my address and you can come by with it soon."

"Dude, are you sure? I could be a serial killer. Or a super villain."

"I'll take my chances. Now put it on, unless you want to catch a cold."

Sam shrugged and took it smiling "Thanks, um..."

It was a little small for him, and didn't look nowhere as good on him as it did on the stranger. But it was strangely comfortable.

"Kurt. I'm Kurt Hummel." Kurt stuck out his hand for Sam to shake.

"Sam I am." He said as he shook Kurt's hand.

"I presume you don't like green ham and eggs."

Sam blinked. Most people didn't get it, and if they did they thought it was weird.

"Ah that's me," Kurt said as a limo pulled up. He pressed a white card into Sam's hand. "This is my business card. Come see me whenever is good for you. Call first though. Goodbye Sam."

And with that he was running towards the limo door folding his umbrella in. Sam watched for a minute longer than necessary as the limo disappeared into the distance.

"Just in time," Blaine smiled at him, a touch of smugness permanently his voice. "It was just about to start really coming down."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," Blaine took one hand kissing it lightly. "Did I keep you waiting long?"

"No," Kurt lied. "I had a drink in the bar next door. I was only out for a few seconds."

"Good," Blaine dropped his arm and patted his knee. "Why don't you have a coat?"

"Oh. I must have lost it in the bar." It wasn't exactly a good business prospect to bring up have random conversations and exchanges with other men. Particularly if you had been flirting with them (though Kurt was fairly sure that this Sam was straight). Even if it had been, Kurt would want to jeopardize his relationship with Blaine. He had a fairly good deal and sometimes it felt like Blaine might actually love him back.

Falling in love with client was definitely not good business practice.

"Do you want to go back and get it?"

Kurt shook his head. "No. I'm sure it will come back to me."

"Just like Cinderella." Blaine stroked his face. Kurt turned his face to look at the window.

"Maybe."

Blaine laughed. "Now I hope you're ready for the Opera."

Kurt smiled lukewarmly back. He wondered if Sam was already back in the bar with his arm around whatever girl he was currently dating (a boy attractive couldn't be single). It must be nice to have a normal relationship.

"Hey Trouty Mouth!" Santana waved to Sam as he walked into the bar again. "I was just about to come and get you."

He winced at the use of that nickname. Thank God she wasn't drunk enough yet to start singing the song. He sat down beside her putting his arm around her waist. "Sorry, baby."

"So we were just about to ask you before you left um-Clark -how's the modeling going?" One of their companions asked. Some guy at the agency Santana owned.

A few years ago this question would've phased him. He wasn't the world's best liar by nature. Now, however...

"You'll be seeing my face in magazines soon." He finished with a smile.

"He's not represented by us right?" The other one asked.

"No," Santana smiled. "Clark, feels it would be too much favoritism for me to represent him."

"Well, you should come to us when you get well known enough."

"I'll keep it in mind," Sam forced himself to laugh.

"Oh it look's like I'm out." The first person said looking into the bottom of his glass. "Do you want anything?"

"Get him two of what I'm having." Santana said. "Also some breadsticks."

As the man walked up to the bar, and the other one went to the bathroom, Santana interlaced her fingers with Sam's. The two of them stared blankly ahead at the door Sam had come through a few minutes earlier.

Kurt fell back into his bed with a sigh. He didn't know why he was disappointed. Blaine usually only wanted to have sex a few times a year (usually on Kurt's birthday, perhaps as a pity fuck).

He wouldn't have been able to imagine this disappointment at sixteen. It was just, after years of being uncertain about sex and desires (particularly because of all the people who had said those desires were wrong), he finally felt comfortable. It would be nice to have sex with someone he liked who wasn't over fifty.

It wasn't like Blaine hadn't expressed interest in other people. He could still remember the obcession with the valet Jeremiah, which culminated in Blaine serenading him with the chours from his latest show, and Jeremiah getting fired. Or the week where Blaine thought he was in love with his co-worker Rachel Berry. That had been fun.

Maybe it was time to get over him.

Kurt sighed and started to take off his outfit. It was only then that he remembered his lost jacket. He'd probably never see it again. It really didn't matter. He had a ton of clothes and it wasn't like that jacket was particular favorite. He would've told the person to keep it under other circumstances, but this Sam seemed like he had a lot of pride and would've been offended by something like that.

_What a ridiculous assumption to make about someone I just met. _He thought as he sat down at the vanity to start his nightly moisturizing routine.

Sam woke up to the sound of humming coming from the kitchen. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve only to realize he was still wearing his clothes from last night and was wearing a coat he didn't remember putting on. He must have come in drunker then he had thought he was. Something he realized a minute later feeling his headache set in.

He looked at the clock. Shit. It was already 10: 30 am. He had a job at 10 am with Miss. Quinn Fabray, and she definitely wouldn't be happy if he was late and hungover. He groaned and got out of bed heading for the kitchen.

"Hi!" The blonde at the counter greeted him.

"Good morning, Brittany." Sam smiled inspite of himself at his roommate's girlfriend. "Why are you here?"

"I didn't work last night, so I came over to see Artie instead." She explained.

"Oh. How's the club?"

Brittany worked at the exotic dancing club _I'm Slave 4 U_ six nights a week. Remembering his own days of stripping he felt a sort of kinship with her. Not that he'd ever say anything about it. Neither she or Artie knew about his "career" and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Oh it's okay." Her voice was a tad higher then usual and she sounded a bit nervious. Sam wondered why. Brittany had no shame about her job and would proudly tell anyone who asked about all the details. It was one of her best qualities. Well, whatever. Maybe it would be better to change the subject.

"Would you like some breakfast? I can make eggs."

"What about the baby chicks?" She asked concern in her eyes.

He stared a moment before realizing what she meant.

"No baby chicks in these ones. Promise."

She nodded and started to say something, when Sam's phone rang.

"Ah hang on a moment." He picked out of the coat pocket and answered it. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Sam!"

He smiled, despite the fact that the voice was a trifle loud and painful. "Good morning, Rachel. Are you calling for a job?" 

"Yes," She paused. "Can you come out tomorrow night, with Mercedes and I?"

"I don't have anything else, so sure."

Mercedes and Rachel used to be only semi-regular clients. Just for birthdays or parties, usually with a bigger group of co-workers. However, a year ago Rachel dumped her longtime boyfriend for reasons she had decided not to share with him or anyone else, and she started booking him with Mercedes to come out with them in the evenings. As far a regulars went they were his favorites. No pressure or expectations, just compliments and listening things that came easy. They also didn't insult him like Santana did which helped.

There was also Quinn, he supposed. But Quinn was problematic in other ways.

"Great. So for 7: 00 pm at-"

"Just a sec, I need some paper." He dug into the pocket of the mystery coat, hoping to find a receipt or something. He felt stiff piece paper, like a business card and pulled it out. The name on it, "Kurt Hummel" sounded familiar.

_Come see me whenever is good for you. Call first though. _

Ah that's right.

"Sam?"

"I'm still here. 7 pm at the usual place, right?" He scribbled it down. "Peter Kent will be there."

"Thank you! See you then."

"See you then." He turned off his phone, sinking down into one of the stools at the counter.

"Something wrong?" Brittany asked.

"No," He shook his head. "I just have to return something I borrowed."


End file.
